


Floating Bliss

by orphan_account



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: First time Chasten rims Pete.
Relationships: Pete Buttigieg/Chasten Buttigieg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Floating Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy reading this.

When they get into bed, their goodnight kiss is a chaste kiss, a hello I’m home kiss – warm and comfortable and calming. Chasten puts his hand on Pete’s chest, feels the thump, thump of Pete’s heart reciprocating his own. It pulls him out of his drowsiness, and without thought or goal, Chasten pushes the hem of Pete’s shirt upward so he can kiss that spot on Pete’s chest where the heart beats loudest.

“Let me show you,” Chasten says, without knowing what the words mean until Pete asks him.

“Show me what?”

“How perfect you are.”

Pete gasps, although Chasten is barely doing anything, just breathing quietly against Pete’s chest, making the hairs there quiver.

Chasten peels off Pete’s shirt and pants, feeling Pete’s muscles tremble with want, and pulls back the blanket so he can see all of him. He has seen him so many times now, but the sheer beauty of it always comes as a shock.

Chasten stands up and strips off his clothes, eyes locked on Pete’s.

“You’re so – ” he starts, but the words don’t come, so instead he crawls back onto the bed, hovering over Pete, and begins to cover his throat with small, slow kisses.

Chasten may not quite understand religion, but he understands the impulse to worship. Pete fills him with it, the primal yearning to lose oneself in contemplating incomprehensible beauty.

He focuses on Pete, the movements of his body, the tremors and arcs, the moans and gasps, the fluctuations in his breath and the heavy pounding of his heart. It’s as if Chasten’s own body, his own desires, disappear. He becomes a vehicle for Pete’s delight. All he feels is what Pete feels.

Chasten’s body works on instinct, responding to Pete’s reactions. Pete’s body quakes when Chasten runs the flat of his tongue along the crease of his hip, so he does it again, and again, lapping at him unhurriedly as Pete’s gasps crescendo into moans.

“Oh, Chasten – ”

Chasten rubs his cheek against Pete’s cock, luxuriating in its warmth and smoothness, tracing its veins and ridges with his fingers. He drags his nose and lips in the hair around the base, the sultry interior of Pete thighs – down, down, down toward his beautiful, tawny pink rose.

Chasten’s wanted to do this for a long time, to taste this last spot of Pete that has gone untasted, to thank it for the things it does to both of them. He spreads the cleft of Pete’s ass open and stares – he finds himself staring at Pete’s asshole a lot, it’s just so – There really aren’t words. So he doesn’t try to find them.

He uses his tongue for purposes other than speaking.

Pete slowly opens under Chasten’s tongue, petals unfurling, the eager bloom of spring and desire. He opens his mouth, too, gasping out scraps of words but incapable of completing any of them, finally giving up and settling into moans and barks of pleasure.

Chasten could do this for hours, for days, forever, bathing in Pete’s light.

Chasten sucks on one finger and then slides it into Pete, quivers himself at the fierceness with which Pete grasps him, pretty sure he’ll never get over how amazing that feeling of it tight around him – any part of him – is.

Chasten takes Pete’s cock into his mouth, sucks slow and lazy. He loves the way Pete’s cock throbs and grows, a living thing, a living part of Pete, filling and satisfying him.

Pete’s hands grasp in Chasten’s hair. “Oh, Chasten, I – Oh, you – Chasten, you make me, Chasten, you make me, Chasten – ”

Chasten runs his free hand up to Pete’s face, reading the twists of ecstasy on his lips and neck and around his eyes until Pete grabs Chasten’s fingers with his mouth, pulling him in with near-frantic need.

Chasten is feeling his own franticness now, wishing his mouth could be everywhere, and god does he try. He licks down Pete’s cock back and to his balls, pulling them one at a time into his mouth with a gentle swirl of his tongue, sucks gently on Pete’s balls, slides down to Pete’s hole because he wants to feel it grabbing around his tongue.

Pete lets out a whimper of protest when Chasten pulls his finger out, but when he replaces it with his tongue, the sound that Pete makes is anything but protest. Pete sucks on Chasten’s hand more fiercely, so hard that Chasten would worry about his fingers being bruised if he weren’t so lost in the sensation of Pete’s muscles grasping at his tongue. Pete is rocking against Chasten’s mouth and it’s perfect, perfect – Chasten can see and smell and hear and taste nothing but Pete. Chasten’s nose rocks against the soft skin beneath Pete’s balls, rich with the smell of soap and sweat and the faint scent of musk, and when Chasten’s eyes open all he sees are Pete’s skin and balls, the bounce of his heavy cock against his stomach. Chasten grabs it, soothes it, strokes it fast and slow and in between as Pete rides his tongue, and fuck, why did Chasten wait so long to do this? If only his tongue were strong enough, if only he had enough sense to keep himself from fucking into the mattress, he could do this forever. 

Pete is quaking, gasping, his back arching, his moans so shaky they sound close to sobs, and that’s the final straw for Chasten, the thing that makes him thrust deeper than he thought possible into Pete’s ass, the thing that makes him thrust against the mattress and come so hard he can no longer see Pete’s skin, just a pure shock of white against his eyelids.

Chasten doesn’t know if it’s how deep his tongue has gotten or the way he moans into Pete’s ass or the way he involuntarily squeezes Pete’s cock when he comes, but pretty soon Pete follows with something akin to a shout, muffled only by Chasten’s fingers in his mouth. His orgasm ripples around Chasten’s tongue, spills out over Chasten’s hand, and Chasten uses the wetness to stroke Pete through it. It’s everywhere, soon, on Pete’s balls and the tip of Chasten’s nose and dripping onto his top lip.

Chasten carefully pulls his tongue out and licks soothingly at Pete’s wet crack, trembles with the aftershocks that run through Pete’s body.

“Move up” Pete finally mumbles, pulling a reluctant Chasten up from his ass and toward his mouth. “Is it too dirty that I want to kiss you?”

Chasten smiles. “Nothing’s dirty with you.”

Pete licks into Chasten’s mouth, like he’s trying to taste and swallow every bit of pleasure either of them experienced this evening. Chasten feels cared for and content.

They are in a floating state of bliss before they collapse into sleep.


End file.
